


18:16

by strangeera



Series: You're alright [4]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm laying in my bed in my bedroom at home wearing fleece bottoms with reindeer on them my mom got me from Primark for Christmas, feeling really f****** ill – there's an untouched cheese sandwich and a packet of prawn cocktail crisps on a plate at the foot of my bed and basically everything hurts, and nothing makes sense, and time means nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	18:16

**Author's Note:**

> Most spelling mistakes are on purpose in this one, haha.

I'm laying in my bed in my bedroom at home wearing fleece bottoms with reindeer on them my mom got me from Primark for Christmas, feeling really fucking ill – there's an untouched cheese sandwich and a packet of prawn cocktail crisps on a plate at the foot of my bed and basically everything hurts, and nothing makes sense, and time means nothing. I'm absently playing Grand Theft Auto Online on the PS4 Robert got free with his new phone contract from Carphone Warehouse a few weeks ago, not really paying attention – he insisted I have it, already got one, he said, maybe we can play it together, and at the time I was feeling, well, you know, like I wanted to remove all of his skin or something, just really twisted, angry, or whatever, and I said: “no thanks,” but I thought fuck it, and took it anyway. It's pretty good, I guess, I mean, I only have two friends, Robert and Adam, and I don't have a lot of time to play it between work and, you know, always feeling sad, constantly agonising over personal decisions that simultaneously make me want to bite off all my fingers and suck Robert's neck until there's nothing left of either of us, arguing with myself over and over, but what can you do? I'm so fucking warm, kick off all my blankets but I'm too cold, pull them back over me, sigh, throw a little bit of a paddy, punch a pillow, pick up the controller.

 

On the TV I'm racing down a motorway on a motorbike at sunset, and the radio's on, and beside me there are hills, and windmills, sort of floating, I dunno, and something comes over me, maybeit's the Fever, anyway I suddenly feel just so uncomfrtABLE, and for some awful reason I'm thinking about the time my dad got me a PS1 when I was coming nine, I think – and I never understood why, randomly, one summer night during the six weeks, it was just there, under the TV in the living room. I only had Spyro the Dragon for it, and I remember it was really hard to play, but I played it every day anyway, and thought about it all the time. I understand now why I did that, why it was there in the first place. I'M TOO HOT.

 

Can't sttop thinking about this Vine I saw earlier on Robert's old iPhone he gave me: this guy obsessed with Star Wars and it just reminds me of Robert, everything does. Thinking 'bout how I felt at the cinema, the burrito's-

 

and it was late and we were listening to the radio in his car with the light on but we weren't really doing anything – he was staring at his phone, the familiar tap tap tap, you know, and I was drinking a carton of strawberry Ribena, just chilling out, and it was just nice to be sort of, I dunno, close to each other, not having sex, not even talking, I dunno, and I said I was hungry and he asked me what I wanted and I said something Mexican, a burrito or something, but I don't wanna go out, and he said well they've got that little Mexican section in Sainsbury's and I said alright, sounds good, and we had a few things in our basket already – a bottle of this disgusting, fizzy wine Robert likes; some salt and vinegar peanuts for me; this really cheap looking movie about aliens cuz Robert loves 'em, course he does, and we were staring at burrito's and I said something like I'm so hungry I could eat this whole burrito in one fucking bite, I'm absolutely marvin', and he said, smirking, eyebrows raised, oh yeah? and I said, feeling it, yeah, and he glanced over at the corridor leading to the toilets and said you know, I'm really turned on and I said sorry about that, wish I could help you out and, well, you know, we

 

I'm SWEATing. The iPhone on the bed next to me goes off and it's a text from Robert: Adam says you're off work, you alright? It's 14:19 and I can't stop thinkign about these windmills, realise I'm staring at n0thing, kind of drooling, and my feet feel like, a millionmiles away, and I'm hurting all over, and feeling needy. The cinema, the possibility of something else? I decide to text him back, and I say: yeah i'm really ill, i'll be okay, and then, against my better judgement, the emoji with the spit bubble. Why did I do that, I'm asking myself, breathing heavily, biting my bottom lip, kicking off my blankets again,Fuck, and he says: do you want me to come over? and why would I want that Robert, why the fuck would I wan t that, but I say: okay, and I pretty much wanna actually eat my fist, and then I say, shaking: be warned though, it's not pretty. He says: not possible, no emoji, and I say: dot dot dot.

 

I stare at the game on pause for a while, thinking about cutting my arm a little bit, and the phone goes off. He says: sorry. About six? I'M TOO COLD and then I fall asleep.

 

-

 

I sort ofwake up and it's 18:16 and I'm pretty much hallucinating, things from before, way way back, like: the mask from Crash Bandicoot hanging above my bed, chanting; an army of ants, covering the floor; a man sitting in the corner that I sort of know but can't place, windmills, burrito's, and then my bedroom door opening, and someone sitting on my bed, and then I'm awake for real, and Robert is staring at me with the eyebrows, you know, and it all disappears. He says: “hey.” I say: “can you get me a drink?” and he hands me a strawberry Ribena. He's got a cherry Tango; some Bueno's; two Kinder eggs and he's wearing gray Nike joggers and a blue t-shirt that's way too small and I feel like I'm on the verge of tears, and then he says: “move over,” and pats me gently on the leg as he cracks open the cherry Tango, so I move over but I say: “don't, you might catch it,” ripping the straw off my Ribena. He looks over at me, smiling, those teeth, and says, with no irony: “caught it a long time ago.” I'm too warm but like in a good way? and the ugly thing inside me doesn't respond, and I take a deep breath, rest my head on his shoulder. 

 

“Shall we watch a film?” he asks. I shrug, head still on his shoulder. He smells like


End file.
